


Mea Culpa

by DictionaryWrites



Series: Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus Stories [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Banter, Canon Dialogue, Complicated Relationships, Cultural Differences, M/M, Mistakes, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 09:23:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20863925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Bull takes the banter a little too far.





	Mea Culpa

He was too damned stuck in his own head. That was the problem.

All these damned people in Skyhold, all of ‘em painting their needs on their skin so you could read them at a glance, all of them putting big banners above their head that said exactly what they wanted, what they craved, so _desperately._ It was obvious in the way you talked to them, the way they talked to you, the way they looked at each other or at the wares sold within the walls of the fortress. So many of them were so simple, so _easy_, and Bull, he’d gotten complacent.

He’d brushed Dorian off, just a little.

Little pampered prince from Minrathous, just like Blackwall said – some easy little Vint, easy, _easy_…

And he wasn’t paying attention, not enough attention. This was what happened when the Bull was stressed and tired and thinking about what _he_ wanted instead of what other people needed – and what he wanted? He wanted the Vint in his bed. He’d prefer pulling him out of a rosewater bath and kissing him from ankle to neck, seeing what little noises he could wring out of him, but he’d be willing to give him whatever he _wanted_, just to get him there the first time—

“You stand there, flexing your muscles!” Dorian had snapped, and Bull could hear the desire in his voice, barely hidden, but he didn’t turn to look at him, and he _should_ have, he would have seen the difference, he would have. “Huffing like some beast of burden with no thought save conquest.”

_Conquest_.

That was what he wanted, huh?

_No_. Of course he didn’t, of course he didn’t – why would Pavus want conquering, when everyone his whole life had been trying to conquer him and make him into a useful little outpost? Why would Pavus want a play at force, when force was always hanging over his head in Minrathous?

Stupid of him.

_Stupid_ of him, but he said it.

“That’s right,” Bull had purred, flexing his muscles and being so _certain_ that Dorian was watching them hungrily, and maybe he was. “These big muscled hands could tear those robes off while you struggled, helpless in my grip.”

What would he have seen, if he’d just fucking _looked_? Dorian, straight-backed and stiff? Dorian, flinching? Dorian, horrified?

“I’d pin you down, and as you gripped my horns, I. Would. _Conquer_. You.”

Only then had he turned to look at Dorian, and seen exactly how much he’d fucked up. The playfully irritable stance had drained right away. They weren’t just an odd couple anymore, flicking jibes at each other’s nations: Dorian was staring up at him with his eyes wide, his lips parted, leaning _away_ from him. There was no fear in his eyes, not really, which was funny, because Dorian looked at least a little scared of the Bull _all_ the time, but not now.

Now, he looked _betrayed_. Disappointed. Disgusted.

“Uh,” he said breathlessly, all normal diction lost. “What?”

“Oh,” Bull said, and he didn’t know how to scramble for the words he wanted, how to explain, no, no, I didn’t mean it, I just wanted you to… “Is that not where we’re going?”

“_No_,” Dorian said, indignant, stepping away from him. “It was very much _not_.”

Bull used present tense.

Dorian used past tense.

Even in common, it was plain that that was bad. Dorian stalked off, and Bull stared after him, struck dumb, but then he _ran_.

“Hey!” he said. “Hey, hey, Dorian—”

“Don’t you speak to me,” Dorian snapped. “You disgusting— I ought have known, it is _precisely_ the sort of bestial—"

Bull’s hand touched Dorian’s wrist and Dorian whirled with fire in his eyes and burning in his other hand, but Bull hit the ground on his knees _hard_. Dorian was breathing heavy, but he stopped mid-inhale when Bull said, “Mea culpa.” He held Dorian’s hand as gently as he could, even when he felt like the skin would burn him. “Mea culpa, mea culpa, _maxima_ culpa. Me poenitet.” Every Tevene word was more clumsy than the rest – his Tevene was made for going through enemy letters, not for _talking_, but Dorian was staring down at him, spellbound. The ball of fire raised by his shoulder was dimming with the second, and his hand wasn’t so hot under Bull’s fingers. “I just— I thought you’d like it, I don’t wanna hurt you, I’m sorry.”

“You thought I’d like it?” Dorian repeated, some of the indignation coming back, but more than that, _more_ than that, was the _hurt_. Why should it bother him so much that Dorian looked so _hurt_?

This was the problem with coming away from the Qun – all the bas with their _hurt_ and their want and their feelings, and here was Bull, with all three just the same. He was breathing heavily himself, and he didn’t even want to think of what his face looked like, staring up at Dorian as he was.

“Sometimes, guys, they need… They want to pretend they’re forced into it. I’m too taboo, otherwise, and it’s easier to play a game about it. Not you. I’m sorry, I thought you— But not you, I got that, I got it. Mea culpa.”

“You don’t think it’s rather sad,” Dorian said, somewhat tonelessly, “to think I might only want you if I had to pretend it wasn’t happening?”

“It’d be worth it,” Bull said. It was the kind of thing he’d usually say to disarm a guy into coming closer, but he was surprised by how much it felt like he _meant_ it. It would be worth it. It would, it would. What was it about Dorian? Damned Vint…

Dorian’s cheeks were burning red as he tugged back his hand, turning his head.

“Get off the floor,” he said. “You look like a fool, on your knees like that.”

“You sure you don’t like the view?”

Dorian laughed, breathlessly, and he made to kick at Bull, but Bull caught his leg by the ankle and leaned in, kissing his knee.

“Vishante kaffas!” Dorian said, shoving him away by the horn as he tried not to laugh, but he went with looser shoulders, now, even snuck a glance back at the Bull. Not so angry, now, not—

It was fine.

The relief that bloomed in Bull’s chest was distinctly _un_-Qunari.

**Author's Note:**

> Mea culpa - my fault, my error. Pretty common in English anyway. Maxima culpa, let's say, is just "my fault, BIG TIME". Me poenitet is like, I regret, I'm sorry. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to hit up [my ask on Tumblr,](http://patricianandclerk.tumblr.com/ask) to talk about DA in general, and definitely to recommend blogs to follow! I am open for requests (for Origins, II, and Inq). I also run a no-drama Dragon Age Discord, which [you can join here.](https://discordapp.com/invite/ttgP5v8) Please comment if you can!


End file.
